Harry Potter Drabbles
by Carmilla
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin. 20 to 600 words, rated from G to R. The only connection between them is they're all written by me. Update - added 'Knockturne'. Contains OotP spoilers.
1. Honest

TITLE: Honest  
RATING: R  
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. JK Rowling is god, I'm just playing with them.

You love me. Hah. Don't try to hide it; you can't hide anything from me anymore. That's your fault, you know. All your fault. You open up, you spread yourself to my eyes. 

And I take what I want, and I leave. 

And you knew that. 

Sometimes I wonder why I ever wanted to fuck such an idiot. But there's something….. intriguing about you. About the way you give yourself up to me. Some masochistic impulse, perhaps? After all, I've never been anything but honest with you. You knew I was going to hurt you. You knew I was going to tear you up and glut myself on your blood and your pain and then leave you there. You knew. And still you followed. 

Pathetic, really. Beaten dog trailing along at his master's heels. You stupid little bitch. You don't really think your devotion will make me care for you, do you? 

I don't care. I could leave you tomorrow. Maybe I will. But then again, maybe I won't. Maybe I'll stay and watch you rot from the inside out. Is that why you stay? Do you just want to know how long I'll stick around? 

Or how long you can take it? 

Is this your punishment to yourself, perhaps? Are you atoning for some sin here? Bad move, motherfucker. Don't you dare try to use me. There's no forgiveness here, just sin and sin and more sin, forever and ever, amen. 

But I was forgetting. You don't want to use me. You love me. 

It's almost funny. The one person in the world…. the only one who ever loved me. And it's you. Not my father, not my mother, not my mentors, not my friends. You. You pathetic little son of a bitch. The irony's thick enough to choke on. 

Get up and leave, why don't you? What have you got here? I'm only going to hurt you again. And you don't want that. You hate it when I'm cruel, however hard you bite your upper lip. However many tears you refuse to cry for me. 

Moron. Don't stay. Don't love me. Get out and never come back, before I tear the place down around your head. But you won't, will you? No, you'll stick around. You're far to keen to be a martyr. A martyr to your love. Hah. 

Fine. Have it your way. Get on your knees again, bitch. 


	2. Dirty Laundry

TITLE: Dirty Laundry  
RATING: PG 

Mrs. Weasley was sorting the washing when she found a shirt she didn't recognise. It was deep blue, and made of something fine and soft. Not the sort of thing any of her boys went in for, she thought with an indulgent smile. Boys.... on a sudden inspiration, she turned over the collar. Sure enough, there was a name label inside. Oliver Wood. Ah, that explained it. He and Percy had been room mates last year. He could easily have picked it up, thinking it was his, and packed it with his own clothes. 

It never crossed her mind to question how Percy could accidentally take something so different from any of his own clothes, not to mention a size or two bigger. And she certainly didn't wonder what the stains on it were, or how they got there.


	3. Scratching the Surface

TITLE: Scratching the Surface  
RATING: PG-13  
  
I felt you scraping across my skin. Sometimes lighter, sometimes harder, although never enough to break the surface. Pain and pleasure mixed in equal proportions. Flurries of movement, pressure that faded, wetness that dried on me. Perfect. I thought for a moment of that idiot girl, and wondered how it was possible for two touches to be so different. You. It was you I wanted doing this.  
  
I responded to you, growing more insistent, drawing you into me. Letting you know me from the inside out. Or at least, the parts I wanted you to know.  
  
I think of that now as you stab into me, violently, almost with fury, and I come gushing all over your hands.  
  
Green ink. You'll find it hard to wash off, Harry Potter. I'll cling to you just as long as I can. 


	4. Visions

TITLE: Visions  
RATING: PG-13 

Ginny learned a Silencing Charm in Second Year. It stopped her waking her dorm mates up with the screaming. 

The dreams, which had almost gone away over the summer, came back again with the force of a fist when she came back to the place where it had happened. It seemed like every room, every hallway and every long and twisting corridor was etched with what she had done there, the thoughts she had had.... the writing was on the walls. 

The dreams - they twined around her subconscious, elusive and fascinating, or burned through her gut like acid, so she woke up choking back vomit. 

The easiest ones were where he killed her. Sometimes a curse, sometimes a knife blow, sometimes a quick snap of the neck... red-soaked dreams that made her bristle with fear, but at least they were easy to wake from. The moment of death jolted her from sleep; she never followed it down, into the inky blackness..... 

Sometimes he would torture her first, silent and deadly or crowing with triumph at her pain. Those visions made her wonder whether, perhaps, he lingered in her mind still; whether they hadn't been able to root all of him out. Because surely she would never think of anything like _that_. 

But worst of all were the dreams where he was gentle with her. Where he held her in his arms, soothed his with his dark, rich voice and fine boned hands, feather light, stroking, stroking.... reaching inside her clothes, drawing spiderwebs on her skin, stripping her down, opening her up for him, hearing her hiss of breath as his sharp teeth branded her neck.... because he _wouldn't_ have done that. That wasn't him. So where did it come from? 

She knew there was a possibility she could be cured. That there were people, or spells, that might be able to help her. She never sought them out. Partly, she feared that they would fail, and she would be left with these images in her mind for the rest of her life, unable to escape him or even to hope for escape. 

But mostly, she feared they would succeed, and she would never feel his touch on her again.


	5. In the Dark

TITLE: In the Dark   
RATING: R   
  
Harry woke to warm lips on his mouth; startled, he gasped and nearly choked. Immediately, hands were around him, soothing, apologising silently... there were words he would never say aloud. One of them was sorry. The others were -   
  
"I love you."   
  
What? He could barely believe that he's heard it. He was given no chance to respond as those lips closed over him, demanding, hot.... a contrast to the freezing fingertips that were burrowing under his shirt, scrabbling, ripping, getting to his skin in any way they could. His mouth tasted strange, a tang of something sharp he couldn't quite place; probably some obscure potion he'd been working on. Every sensation was magnified by the complete absence of light. He wondered if Severus had used some sort of charm on him, as he had once before, to act as a blindfold, but he wasn't touching him as if he was playing games. Those hands were the most earnest he had ever felt them. So as his eyes were no use, he closed them, and surrendered to the sensation and the lips and tongue which seemed to have lost all their reserve.   
  
It was only when the touches slackened and stopped, and he conjured a light to find out why, that he recognised the taste in his mouth as blood. 


	6. As Before

TITLE: As Before  
RATING: PG-13  
  
Long fingered hands twine into his robes, forcing his back against the wall. The dark haired head bends close to his.  
  
And kisses him.  
  
Hot lips instead of hot accusations, a tang of bittersweetness he had almost forgotten. Almost. The hands in his robes are not there to control him, but to guide him. Saving him from his foolishness, from himself.  
  
And suddenly he feels that the weight has gone from the back of his head, and everything is as it was before.  
  
Quirrel closes his eyes, and looks back at the mirror again. He needs to find the Stone. 


	7. Family

TITLE: Family  
RATING: G  
  
When he'd first seen the Mirror, he hadn't been to the Burrow. Hadn't met Arthur, or spoken properly to Molly. Hadn't known how Percy's hair looked in the mornings, or how Ginny smiled when she thought you weren't watching, or how easy it was to be happy, given the right setting. And the right company.  
  
So he wasn't too surprised, looking into it again, to see himself back there. Racing the twins on broomsticks, wrestling with Ron, teasing Ginny. Kissing Molly goodnight, talking with Arthur or Percy. Wasn't too surprised to see himself with a smiling face, and…. red hair? 


	8. Beauty

TITLE: Beauty  
RATING: G  
  
It was a mirror. A large, exquisitely crafted one too. Gilderoy liked mirrors; and, he thought smugly, they liked him back.  
  
Wanting to see himself in that flawless glass, he stepped forward. But the reflection wasn't what he'd expected.  
  
It was him. Or rather, her. In a long, cloth-of-gold evening gown, waist length blonde hair artfully braided. His - her smile was dazzling. Award winning, even. Her eyes were pure sapphires. She beckoned him.  
  
They were perfect.  
  
He raised one trembling hand to the mirror. Sweet Merlin, he'd always known she would be beautiful. But he'd not realised how much. 


	9. Tomcat

TITLE: Tomcat  
RATING: R  
WARNING: Weird and potentially squicky.  
  
In his sixth year, Harry Potter became an Animagus. Unlike his father, he had the help and consent of Dumbledore when he did it. Like his father, he used his shape at night, when he shouldn't, for reasons he shouldn't.  
  
He had wondered if maybe he would become a stag. No. Nothing like it. He was glad of it. His shape was a large cat, coal black, with wide green eyes. Perfect. Better than an Invisibility Cloak, in some ways. The Cloak just made him unseen. This made him unnoticed.  
  
He knew, really, he shouldn't use it to slink round the school, keeping an eye on the Slytherins, exploring the corners he'd never had access to before. But it was too exciting, this new world of darkness he could see through and smells he could taste and feel, far too exciting to give up. Besides, there was Her.  
  
It had only been a couple of weeks after his first transformation when he met Her for the first time, stalking through the corridors as if she owned them. She'd fixed him with imperious amber eyes, wide and black-ringed. There was a challenge there, and he didn't know whether to fight or retreat. Then he smelt the musk rising off her.  
  
Their matings were brief, frantic, wild. He would yowl to the echoing corridors and bury himself inside her, and claw at her tawny back, and she would give him back bite for scratch, or knock him on his back and run away. But never too fast.  
  
The more desperate the battles on the outside became, the more he needed this world. The darkness, and the scent, and the tight heat of her around him, the branding claw marks, the chance, just once, to take the pain and deal it out and not worry about control.  
  
It was becoming increasingly difficult to look McGonnagal in the eye in class. But it was worth it. 


	10. Security Measures

TITLE: Security Measures  
RATING: PG-13  


Zabini, Blaise. That was the last of them. Snape watched the procession trailing away, black, silver and green, and fought the urge to cry. Or scream. 

"Fuck the Ministry's orders!" he'd yelled. "These are our students! Merlin's beard, Albus! These are our _children_!" 

Steely eyes fixed on his, sad but resigned. "They are also their parents' children, Severus." That had been that. 

They were boarding the train, now. No parents to collect them. _They_ weren't allowed within sight of Hogwarts. 

Death Eaters in training, Weasley had sneered, and Potter had nodded. 

If they hadn't been before, they would be now. 


	11. Speaking in Tongues

TITLE: Speaking in Tongues  
RATING: PG  
  
The hand on the back of his neck flared hot as the long incantation came to an end. There was a moment of stillness, and then the pressure on his nape eased.  
  
"You can open your eyes now, Sev."  
  
Harry's voice, soft and low and rough, seemed to have a new quality to it he hadn't heard before, although he couldn't tell exactly what it was. He obeyed, looking cautiously around the room. There didn't seem to be anything different there. Then Harry came from behind him, cradling something in his arms that looked as if it was moving.  
  
"Say hello to her."  
  
It was a snake; a large and beautiful one, although Snape wasn't quite sure of its species. Feeling a little foolish, he said, "Hello."  
  
"Niccce to meet you," the snake replied.  
  
Snape stared as Harry said something to her, quietly, and put her back in her tank. Then he pulled him into a long, lingering kiss.  
  
"Ssso," Harry hissed in his ear when they finally broke apart, "do you like your birthday pressent?"  
  
There was only one reply to that.  
  
"It's jussst what I alwayss wanted." 


	12. Dead Letters: Cedric

TITLE: Dead Letters: Cedric  
RATING: G  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Dead Letters are supposed to be written by characters either just before or just after they die, depending on your preference. They have to be short, and each character may only send one letter to one person. They are, in effect, last words.

I love you. There. It shouldn't have been that hard to say, really. 

I love the glossy black of your hair, and the long straight lines of your legs, and your wide, innocent eyes, and the way that you smile. 

Whether I was competing against you, or in the stands, I always loved watching you on the Quidditch pitch, so quick, so graceful, wind-whipped and intent on the game. 

I'll remember you forever. And I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner. 

Yours ever,  
Cedric 

P.S. Please, Harry, don't tell Cho about this. And the two of you have my blessing. 


	13. Dead Letters: Harry

TITLE: Dead Letters: Harry  
RATING: G

I must make this quick. 

Tell Hermione she has beauty and brains, no matter what anyone says, and that she really needn't use that straightening charm. And I wish I could meet the woman she'll grow into. 

Tell Neville Snape's a git, ignore him. 

Tell Sirius and Remus I wish I knew them better. 

Tell your mum, dad and brothers they're the only people who ever made me feel like I had a family. 

Tell Ginny I'm sorry I couldn't be who she wanted me to. 

And tell yourself I loved you, and please, try to be proud of it. 


	14. Dead Letters: Draco

TITLE: Dead Letters: Draco  
RATING: PG-13

Fuck you. Fuck you all. I hope the lot of you die choking on your own cocks. 

Fuck you, Potter, and your little boyfriend Weasley. Pathetic faggots. Why the hell should you be the one to live? You never had what I had. 

Fuck you, Dad. You just didn't give a shit, did you? Never once cared that I might not be what you wanted me to be. You just twisted and twisted until I became it. 

Fuck you, Pansy, faithless bitch. Oh wait, I already did. 

Fuck you, Snape. Traitor. I hope my blood sticks to your hands forever. 


	15. Dead Letters: Albus Dumbledore

TITLE: Dead Letters: Albus Dumbledore  
RATING: G

My dear boy, 

Forgive me the impunity one last time, old friend, and try not to scowl too much. 

The Defence post is yours, I've seen to it. Minerva had very strict instructions. Tell her that I'll miss her, by the way. And the rest of the staff as well. 

Try to preserve the things I cared about. I trust you with this. Of course you will want to do things your own way. Just… be careful. That's all I ask. 

Oh, and Severus? Look after Harry. He's important to all of us. Yes, even you. 

Yours affectionately,  
Albus Dumbledore


	16. Dead Letters: Cho

TITLE: Dead Letters: Cho  
RATING: PG-13

I swear I'll come back. I'll become a Hogwarts ghost if need be. 

Maybe you'll see me, maybe you won't. I'll tease you just like I always have. But I'll watch you. In class, the Common Room, or the library. In bed, while you sleep, and while you don't… when you toss your head on the pillows and toy with your pretty body and think of nothing but me. And maybe I'll wrap myself around you like a blanket, or run my hands over your skin, or sink right into you, and you won't even know it. 

Wait for me. 


	17. Dead Letters: Neville

TITLE: Dead Letters: Neville  
RATING: PG

I did it. You all thought I was the weak, stupid one, kept me out of the line of fire. More because you were worried I would get in the way than because you wanted to protect me, naturally. Well, a lot of use you were. 

They caught me, kidnapped me, took me to Him. And He used everything he could to break me. Well, I want you to know that I didn't budge. I didn't give away a single plan, a single hiding place. I hope you're all happy. Actually, no I don't. I hope you're ashamed of yourselves. 


	18. Dead Letters: Ron

TITLE: Dead Letters: Ron  
RATING: PG-13

Hagrid, 

I hate spiders. I _hate_ spiders. I hate, hate HATE SPIDERS! So why you had to bring a giant one into Hogwarts, I really don't know. I trust you had your reasons. I hope it made you happy to have your huge, hairy, eight-legged _fucking terrifying_ friend roaming around the woods. I really do. Not to mention his little great-grandchildren, and not-so-little grandchildren, and not-little-at-all, but-actually-rather-large, thank-you-very-much children. Who, I might add, are right bastards. Considering they _killed me_. Might I respectfully ask that when you find my body, you at least clean the bloody cobwebs off it? 

Ron 


	19. Dead Letters: Hermione

TITLE: Dead Letters: Hermione  
RATING: G

I know you never really understood what it was all about. You were pleased when I got my letter, but you didn't know what it actually meant. How irrevocably it was going to change my life. How much of a different person I was going to become. 

I can't explain it all to you in this short letter. Let me just say three things. 

I regret nothing. I wouldn't have changed my life for the world. 

What I died for was worth dying for. Never doubt that for a minute. 

I love you, Mummy. Tell Daddy I love him too. 


	20. Fine Lines

TITLE: Fine Lines  
RATING: PG-13

It was always hard to tell where one of us left off and the other one started. We weren't just similar, we were in synch. We were each other's continuation - often, making some grand scheme, we didn't need to speak; I'd do one thing, and he'd do the next, following the natural progression. We could always finish each other's sentences; each other's actions, even. I knew him so well, could predict him so easily, that when I watched his gestures and it felt like moving my own hands. And maybe the greatest gift to me was laughter - to tell a joke and see my own smile growing on his lips. 

Maybe that's why I can lie in bed and touch myself - 

natural progression; I'd touch him _here_, he'd touch me _there_, inevitable and obvious and _right_

- and it doesn't feel like he's gone. It feels like continuity.


	21. Occlumency

TITLE: Occlumency  
RATING: R  
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. JK Rowling is god, I'm just playing with them.

There's no breaking through to him, not anymore. Memories flicker and subside, memories of those intense, terrifying few weeks when the boy would regularly end up on the floor of his chambers, on his back or his knees, his every weakness exposed. 

He still ends up on the floor, for very different reasons. 

There's no weakness to be seen, though, not now. 

He gasps. He sobs. He screams. He will beg, sometimes. Perhaps as a treat. His talented, talented mouth will do whatever is needed, as they draw together, night after night, compelled without understanding why. 

But when Snape looks into his eyes, there's no passion there, and no weakness. Only a blank, empty space that doesn't even look like a shield. 


	22. Being There For Him

TITLE: Being There For Him  
RATING: Hard R  
NOTES: Remus/Tonks, but the 'shippers won't like it.  
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. JK Rowling is god, I'm just playing with them.

He didn't ask me to do it, and that may be the worst of it. Not the first time, and never since then, either. But the desire is his, not mine, just the same. 

It was simple, at first. A shift of the jawline, making it harder, heavier. Thinning the lips. The curious, itching sensation of stubble breaking through my skin. He sobbed into my mouth, and clung to me, desperate, needy, and I knew that I was right. 

The rest followed, as the rest tends to do. Flattening my chest, broadening it, thickening the muscles in my arms. 

I'd never made myself a cock before. It was weird; it felt like I was drawing all of my pleasure outside of myself, to lie dangling and oddly comical against my thigh. 

He didn't find it funny, though; and when he drew it into his soft, sweet mouth, gentle and reverent, I began to understand the appeal. 

Began to understand why men are the strange creatures they are, as I drove into him, slow at first, then quicker and harder, hearing his pants, his moans, his need. 

Nothing more articulate than that. He never calls me anything. 

But when he weeps into the shaggy black hair I make for him, there's never anything but gratitude in his voice. 


	23. Beautiful

TITLE: Beautiful  
RATING: PG  
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. JK Rowling is god, I'm just playing with them.

When she was very young, Dolores' mother taught her what was beautiful. Discipline was beautiful. Order was beautiful. Obedience was beautiful. Beauty lay in care and moderation, in being strict with oneself. 

Now she is older, Dolores knows better. Blood is beautiful. Only blood. 


	24. What He Needs

TITLE: What He Needs  
RATING: PG-13  
NOTES: Snape/Harry  
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. JK Rowling is god, I'm just playing with them.

His hands roam over my back, restless, unsure, desperate. Crushed to me, bitter with blood and grief, he clings like a drowning man clings to driftwood, searching hopelessly for the familiar, for the warmth he has lost that I have never given him. I ache to have him, to take possession of that fragile frame. I know that I can. 

He mumbles against my mouth, tasting of tears and helplessness. 

Protect me. Save me. 

I force myself to breathe, and I do the best, worst thing I could do. I do what he asked me to. 

I lick the salt-sweetness of him from my lips, and I tell him 'No.' 


	25. Marks

TITLE: Marks  
RATING: R  
NOTES: Harry's POV.  
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. JK Rowling is god, I'm just playing with them.

It's funny that my most prized possession once belonged to a woman I hated. She was in no condition to miss it when she finally left. Don't feel sorry for her – she got what she deserved. I can still see the lines I traced into my hand. 

All it took was a little modification, though, and it became a thing of beauty. 

Binns is droning at the front of the class; the sun is beaming down outside. We swelter quietly, stripped to our shirtsleeves, pretending to write notes while our minds wander far from here. I flourish my quill a little. 

Seamus shifts in his seat. His shirt is clinging to his back, damp with sweat. Here and there, unobtrusively, it is flecked with blood. He'll cover it with his robe when he leaves, and no-one will know, except me. Tonight, with fingers and tongue, I'll rediscover every tiny mark. Maybe I'll heal him. Maybe I'll make him bleed for me again. Whichever I choose, I guarantee he will beg me for it. 

I glance around the room, idly wondering how many of the pupils in it I've signed my name onto, somewhere where it can be felt but not seen. I tend to lose track a little. 

Don't feel sorry for them either. They love it. 


	26. Changing

TITLE: Changing  
RATING: PG-13  
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. JK Rowling is god, I'm just playing with them.

another useless tug at the chains 

_please, don't do this_

the change is coming faster though he tries to hold it off, tries to think with something other than his teeth 

_don't do this_

warm, human blood, close enough to taste  
a scrabbling of limbs no longer entirely human 

_don't do this to me_

as his eyesight fades to a muted black and white, all he can see is a beatific smile  
then scent takes over, sweat, adrenaline, anticipation; for the first time he can remember, he doesn't smell fear 

_don't make me do this to you_

pants it out, struggles to keep his jaw human long enough to be understood 

Harry does not move. 

_I'm sorry_, he says, _but I need to stop feeling_

And Remus bites him. 


	27. Unbound

TITLE: Unbound  
RATING: R  
NOTES: Snape/Harry, Harry's POV.  
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. JK Rowling is god, I'm just playing with them.

I don't know if it's guilt that makes him do it. He shouldn't be guilty; it's me that comes to him, after all. My little indulgence; an hour a week, less, when I'm not in control. No matter how hard I fight to take it back. 

Maybe this is his little indulgence. The couple of minutes when he takes the shackles off, heals the bruises on my wrists, restores the raw, scraped skin. 

The couple of minutes when, weakened by the release of tension, his hands make me sigh instead of scream. That fleeting time when I can be soothed, rather than sickened, by his touch. 

He kisses me sometimes, in those breathless moments. It's the only time I'll let him. 

I'd never tell him, but it's no good. The iron and copper of my blood still lingers on his lips. Even his mouth tastes of chains. 


	28. Wolves Amoung Sheep

TITLE: Wolves Amoung Sheep  
RATING: PG  
PAIRING: Remus/Sirius  
WORD COUNT: 149  
NOTES: For the ever-lovely Raven.

"Hey, Little Red Riding Hood!" 

Remus ran down the dormitary stairs to catch up with Sirius. He caught him by the arm and spun him around, the better to admire his bright red dress robes. 

He himself was dressed in faded cloth-of-gold, so that between them, they would make up the Griffindor house colours. Sirius noted with a smile that, in his hurry, he'd buttoned it up wrong, making the whole thing look lopsided. Quickly (because if he stopped to think about the fact that he was undoing Remus' buttons, they were going to be even later) he sorted them out. Then together, they raced through the corridors towards the Great Hall. 

Right outside, Remus stopped him. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" 

Sirius pressed their foreheads together with a wicked smile. 

"Quite sure, Moony dear." 

And arm in arm, they went in to the Valentine's ball. 


	29. Third Party

TITLE: Third Party  
RATING: R  
PAIRING: Sirius/Remus/Harry  
WORD COUNT: 218

Harry's watching them again.

They kiss like it's the only thing they'll ever need to do, like it's food and drink and oxygen all rolled into one. They tangle together in a knot of limbs and too-thin torsos and unkempt hair. But this is organised chaos. After so long touching each other, they know exactly what has to be done. They have their own rhythmn, and they pulse with it.

Harry tries to keep up with their elusive beat, but often it proves too much for him. There's always so much to see. Sirius's face is buried in Remus's neck and Remus's hand is clutching at Sirius's hair as Sirius's hand is working Remus's cock as Remus's leg is twining around Sirius's....

Such a wealth of touches; Harry has only two hands, and he can't hope to imitate them all. For a short while he tries, but soon he merely contents himself with stroking his own cock as he tries to take in as much as he possibly can.

And them Sirius rolls over to Harry's side of the bed, and lifts him bodily into the centre, and as two talented mouths and four talented hands go to work on him Harry rolls his eyes back in his head and wonders when, how he ever got this lucky. 


	30. First and Last

TITLE: First and Last  
RATING: PG  
PAIRING: Sirius/Remus/Harry  
WORD COUNT: 256 

The first time Sirius kissed Remus, they were fifteen, giggling, drunk on illicit alcohol and the luxury of private time together. In the morning Remus looked at him, and there was something haunted in his expression; and Sirius hadn't dared to bring the subject up.

The first time Remus kissed Sirius, it was very different; slow and deliberate and full of promise. They were eighteen, newly-graduated, unsure of what they wanted to do with their lives but passionately certain that they wanted to do it together.

The first time Sirius kissed Harry, he barely knew what he was doing. His hands roamed desperately over Harry's body, searching for injury, relieved beyong telling to find nothing but a startling thinness. He had escaped; somehow, miraculously, he was still alive. The kiss was a basic, primal, necessary reminder of all those things.

The first time Harry kissed Remus, Sirius watched, and smiled, and tousled the boy's hair affectionately, keeping his other hand on Remus's knee and thinking he had never seen anything so beautiful.

The last time Remus kissed Sirius, it was domestic and perfunctory, a goodbye kiss born of long habit. Harry wasn't there that week.

The last time Harry kissed Remus, Remus could taste tears in his mouth. They tasted bitterly of their loss, and as they clung to each other neither could pretend that that day would not bring further griefs to them.

And the last time Remus kissed Harry, his lips were cold, and still, and breathless, and it was the end of everything. 


	31. Explorations

TITLE: Explorations  
RATING: G  
WORD COUNT: 146

Harry blinked. Padfoot seemed to have grown a lot. And the grass in the back garden was scraching his nose, making him want to sneeze.

"Oh, bravo!" said Remus. "Very nicely done, Harry!"

His voice seemed louder than usual; almost deafening. Harry pawed at his ear, and nearly fell over.

Remus chucked, and ran a gentle hand over Harry's glossy black fur.

"There there, Harry," he soothed. "I daresay it takes some getting used to."

Harry purred, and attempted a few steps. It was odd, walking on four legs, but not especially difficult.

Padfoot nudged Harry along with his nose, and then, growing impatient, carefully picked him up in his mouth. Harry yowled but didn't attempt to struggle. Padfoot's rough tongue rasped along his belly.

Remus smiled. "C'mon, kitten," he said. "I'm sure Padfoot has a lot of things he'd like you to help in explore." 


	32. Picnic

TITLE: Picnic  
RATING: PG-13  
PAIRING: Sirius/Remus/Harry  
WORD COUNT: 114

Sirius likes it under the sky. He says he feels more alive outside, that even the air tastes better. Harry giggles and agrees with him; he loves the tickle of the grass on his bare skin. Remus rolls his eyes and says he'll know who to blame if they're arrested for public indecency; but he only smiles indulgently when Harry straddles Sirius's hips, and squirms up his bare chest to give him one of his messy, enthusiastic kisses.

The late afternoon sun warms them as they sprawl together, exchanging lazy touches on naked, slightly reddened skin. They all of them spend too much time hiding, Remus thinks. The light is probably good for them. 


	33. Spaces In Between

TITLE: Spaces In Between  
RATING: Hard R  
PAIRING: Remus/Harry  
WORD COUNT: 377

There's a gap where he used to sit. It yawns between Harry and Remus like a chasm, and neither is sure that they would want to close it, even if they knew how to do it. It would mean admitting, really admitting, that he wasn't going to come back; neither of them were ready for that. The silence is dull and heavy, like an overcast summer's day.

"I'm going to bed," Harry says at last. His voice is flat. But he looks an entreaty at Remus before he leaves the room. Remus stirs.

"May I join you?"

Always, before, Sirius had given his permission, had sanctified their union. Tacitly, with his smiles and his encouraging hands and the little noises he made in the back of his throat, he had told his two lovers that they could touch each other.

Harry can't find the words to give that kind of permission. But he nods, and Remus follows him upstairs.

They use the spare bedroom, despite, or perhaps because of, the bed being smaller.

Remus's hands and mouth, the solid reality of his body, his scent, carry with them the blessed relief of the familiar. And yet it isn't quite right. The embrace isn't all-encompassing enough. It's too cold.

No energy for spectacular bedroom gymnastics; too much desperation, too much need, to prolong the act. Soon they're stripped, kissing so quickly and fiercely their teeth clash, just enough space left between their clinging bodies for their hands to work.

Remus is making it hard for Harry to concentrate; the speed and pressure of his hand are just right. But he's together enough to run his thumb around the head of Remus's cock, to twist his hand slightly as he strokes up and down the shaft. He can almost feel Sirius's hand over his own, the way it was the first time, feel Sirius's hot breath on his ear as he whispered just what to do. Hungrily, he claims another kiss as they hurtle towards the edge and over it. They're soaked through with him, the pair of them; maybe this is the easiest way to keep him upmost in their memories.

If either of them called his name at the climax, they're both too sensitive to mention it. 


	34. Knockturne

TITLE: Knockturne  
RATING: PG  
WORD COUNT: 200  
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. J.K. Rowling is God.

The street is deserted, but you can feel the prickle of eyes on the back of your neck. It's past three in the morning; you're breathing dew instead of air. A slight breeze stirs the heavy drapes that serve as doors here as you pass them. Darkness drips from the eves of buildings like moisture from the roof of a cave, leaving long stalactites of shadow in its wake. The tramp of your boots echoes on the worn cobblestones, rude and out of place, and the fog rushes out and swirls around your feet to muffle them into quietness.

Quietness is essential.

The breeze tugs at your sleeve impatiently, motioning you forward. You are at the door; the door you passed without seeing yesterday and many days before. Until a stranger met you at your club, and bought you drinks, and trickled red-tinged dreams of glory into your ear. Lastly, he whispered the name of this place. Where to come, when.

The door opens at your touch. A pale, featureless mask floats in the darkness behind it.

"Ah, you're right on time." The masked voice smiles. "Come in."

The night reaches out a tendril, and pulls you into its heart.


End file.
